


pulling teeth

by Know_Your_Paradoxes



Category: GHOST - Fandom, Vocaloid
Genre: Alternate Character Interpretation, Alters, Anesthesia, Based on a Vocaloid Song, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Contribution to the GCU (Ghost Cinematic Universe), Dentistry, Dentists, Destruction, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Graphic Description, Hyperdontia, Inspired by Music, Internal Conflict, Lowercase, Mouth gore, Mutilation, Novocaine - Freeform, Numbness, POV Second Person, Pain, Self-Destruction, Self-Mutilation, Surgery, Teeth, self-surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Know_Your_Paradoxes/pseuds/Know_Your_Paradoxes
Summary: "pull them out and wash them off, the memories..."you wake up with a terrible pain.





	pulling teeth

your eyes flutter open. oh god, he's here. he's fucking here, and you think that this is your fault. you're the reason that he exists, and now he's in direct control. you whimper a little in the back of your (his) mind, and he does not heed your words. "please," you sob, "don't do this to me." as though you were expecting to get through to this sociopath that wanted to operate on your body as though it were his own, and he simply snickers at you with a sadistic smile that you wish you could wipe off your (his) face.

the pair of pliers that's lying on the sink are just within eyesight, and you keep silently begging against him to leave you alone and let a professional dentist look at your condition. it was just 3 extra teeth. nothing to be too worried over. a simple removal process would get rid of the extras, and you would end up with a happy, healthy mouth with the perfect amount of teeth, and this goddamn demon in your head would finally calm down about the "abomination in your mouth". your head is spinning and his grin only gets wider.

"what seems to be the problem today?" he asks, looking into the bathroom mirror, at you. you shake your head.

"i don't have any problems."

"no, i don't think that's the case. you have a disgusting wretched mess for a mouth, sir. indeed you do. how many extra teeth are in there? how many imperfections? fuckups?"

you can feel tears welling in his eyes -- a good indicator that you're still somewhat in control of the body. "only 3!"

the demon cocks an eyebrow at you with a cocky smugness to him that you've seen too many times before. "only 3? all of your teeth are fuckups, sir! your mouth is a hellhole full of disgusting vermin and infection! i have a diagnosis, although the procedure will be very long and convoluted in order to fix this. and remember, if you would just floss your fucking teeth every once in a while, this never would've happened. don't be a fucking pansy, sir! you need to face this with bravery! it won't hurt! you can trust me!" he has the fake sympathy you've grown to expect from him in his tone, and you want nothing more than to gag despite you not being completely in control of your body at the moment. god, you want to give him a taste of his own medicine, and treat him the way that he treats you.

"please, there's nothing that you can do to fix this! just let us go and get it fixed without complications!" you plead, feeling the heartbeat in your (his) body start to get faster. it thumps against your (his his his his goddammit they're his now his) ears and you can't hear anything but the sound of blood pumping through your body.

he clicks his tongue, as though he were reprimanding you. "you should be grateful, sir! those other surgeons and doctors, they would have you pay thousands upon thousands to get this work done, and for what? just to grow more teeth later on and have to go back?! no, i can guarantee you that i would make sure that no more atrocities would sprout into your mouth. i am an honorable person, and i am giving you my word. you should appreciate me more, you insolent little wretch."

you can't help but have thoughts race through you.

first off, you are not an insolent little wretch. you are a normal human being, save for the rare condition you have in your mouth and in your head. and that's all that he is. he's another consciousness inside of your head. it's a dissociative disorder, and you're surprised that he's never commented on that. he's only ever mentioned your hyperdontia. that's the only thing that you've heard him speak of. and sure, he's mentioned that he wanted to be a dentist if he wouldn't have been an alter in your body, but you thought that with how awful and demeaning he is, that he would've commented on your mental state by now.

secondly, you would never be grateful to a monster like this. if anything, the only reason you'd be grateful is if he decided to switch gears and become a completely sane dentist that would never commit malpractice on himself (you it's still you you won't let him win this is not the end of you you are no longer in control but that doesn't mean that he's the host now this is you it's you your body your mind your being you you you).

"oh boo hoo, you're finding excuses to fucking dissociate while i'm trying to talk to you like a reasonable person, you sadsack! what the fuck gives you the right to treat someone that way, huh?" the smile on his face is still unwavering, and his voice is still just as eerily calm as it has ever been when he was talking to you. somehow deeper than your own, which was surprisingly possible, despite you having never thought that your voice could get deep. his voice would be pleasant if it weren't attached to this disgusting vile creature.

you want to argue, but before you know it, the pliers are in his hand, and you fall silent in the back of his head (stop talking like this it's your brain it's your mind don't give up this easily). "oh, that really got you to shut up! maybe i should carry a pair of pliers around every time i resurface so that i can have some peace and quiet, huh, you little shit?" the pliers open with the ease of his strength (another change that you've noticed between you and him. despite your body carrying him, he is noticeably more capable of doing things that require force and strength than you), and then snap shut, the sound ringing through the interlude of silence between your heartbeat and echoing off the tile walls of your bathroom.

his head moves up, staring into the luminescent bulbs above the mirror, and he drops the pliers into the sink with a loud, metallic, tinging clang. "alright, the doctor is ready to see you now."

there's a fraction of a second before his fingers are in your mouth, prodding and poking at the inner workings as though he had done it a thousand times over. your eyes instinctively water, a kneejerk reaction to the feeling of a rubber glove in your mouth, and your tongue runs across his fingers as he tries to feel for the extra teeth.

the saliva in your mouth builds up to the point where it feels like you're choking on it and ready to drown. he sticks his fingers further down your mouth, toward your uvula and you heave, finally getting air after his fingers leave during the split second it takes for you to hunch over. "god, why are your eyes watering already? i haven't even done anything in your procedure, you disgusting little coward." he chuckles, low and deep, the kind of chuckle that one could expect from a movie villain.

he pulls the body back up till you're right where you were started as he stuck his fingers into your mouth, and they're suddenly back, before you've gotten the chance to fully recover. you can feel him trying to speak at the same time, but he only makes the immense discomfort worse.

after another wretch, he sighs and places his hands on the sink, a sly smirk spreading across his face (your face stop stop stop stop stop stop). "i've found all the abnormalities, sir."

his right hand (another difference, you've noticed, as he clearly prefers using his right hand as compared to your left handedness) reaches and grabs the pliers from inside the sink and his eyes look like they're full of sadistic glee. "say ah!"

and with that, his pliers are now inside of your mouth and wrapped around one of the 3 extra teeth in your mouth. it's behind the left side of your top row of teeth, and doesn't feel like it's that tightly packed into your mouth, so you feel a little better about him getting this particular tooth. it's surprisingly loose and numb feeling for what it's worth. and you realize that he's still capable of speaking despite the large metal device that is holding one of your (and, subsequently, his) teeth. "this one doesn't seem too hard to get out, right, sir? maybe we won't even need novocaine for this one, huh?"

your natural reaction is to try and get your eyes to close, but it's no use. you're no longer in control.

your eyes stay wide open as the pliers wiggle and eventually get the tooth out of your upper jaw, with a bit of effort. your mouth fills with blood as the tooth hits the basin in the sink with droplets of crimson. "now, spit!" he says to you in your mind, and you unconsciously fulfill this request of his, filling the sink with the blood that had previously been in your mouth. "and remember, i get to keep every tooth that i take out of your mouth, alright, sir? just a keepsake for when i got to work on my most vile, fucked up patient yet!"

the pliers are still firmly in his hand, and you notice that he's reaching into the cabinet for something. your eyes widen after you notice what he's grabbing. where the hell did he manage to steal novocaine? how did he smuggle it back without getting caught by anyone? did he steal this from a hospital or a dentist's office? did he buy it while you were blacked out and he had control of the body?

all those questions are soon lulled by the feeling of a needle inside your gums. your lower jaw, specifically. that's where the other two teeth are, and after a minute, you feel the effects starting to numb your jaw. you're relieved at first, because that means that he won't be able to talk to you directly, or mock you through your own body. but then you realize, there's going to be more tooth pulling with him.

you finally get your eyes to shut, and you keep the lids tight as you feel the pliers scrape against the roof of your mouth, trying to get a good grip on the tooth closer to the back of your gums. your eyes fill with tears unconsciously, despite barely being able to feel anything, other than a slight ripping sensation and a ghost-pain where your tooth would have been.

the tooth clangs into the sink, with more blood, replacing the tiny ring of a crimson stain that had drained down into the pipes. you can tell that if he were in control, he would be trying to smile the best that he could. "ah, doesn't that feel liberating, sir? the feeling of freedom, the feeling of normality? there's nothing worse than deformity, you know. just one more pesky little tooth, and then you'll be all done, promise. unless..." he trails off as though he's pondering something, and you feel a sense of dread starting to overwhelm you.

"i have an idea. but until you're completely gone, i can't see it through. if you wouldn't mind, could you give me complete control. i promise, you can trust me. i only want to help you. after all, this body is still mine as well."

you want to refuse, but suddenly your entire vision goes black and everything goes deathly silent.

the next thing you remember, you are waking up on a hospital bed that you don't remember sleeping in, in a hospital gown you don't remember wearing, surrounded by doctors you don't remember meeting. your head hurts, but there's a feeling of weightlessness on your mouth. it feels lighter, somehow. your first thought is that he actually did it, the crazy bastard.

the next thought you have is that you're in a hospital, so something must have happened. you remember that you had texted one of your friends to come over that night for a movie marathon, but you hadn't remembered anything after the second tooth that he had pulled.

the doctor in the blue scrubs with the face mask has her hand on your forearm as she says, "oh my goodness, you're very lucky. if your friend here wouldn't have found you sooner, you might have been in deep trouble. but no worries, we fixed everything up for you. i'm just not sure what kind of incident would've gotten you into this kind of situation."

you attempt to talk, but your tongue hangs loose and the words don't fall. your hands instinctively begin to reach for your mouth, but the doctor's hands grab yours and lead them back down to the sides of the bed. "you should rest. after all, you've been through hell, kid."

your head turns to the nurse on the opposite end of the bed. your gaze tries to convey the question of "what exactly happened to me?" and once the doctor is gone, the nurse sits down next to you and proceeds to tell you the tale of what happened and how you ended up here.

"well, i figured that talking would be difficult for you, what with you lacking a proper lower jaw and all." she sounds... oddly joking as she speaks. your eyes widen with fear, and the feeling of tears that had been previously in them stings at them. your heartbeat quickens to the rapid pace that it had been back in the bathroom when you had been attempting to fight for your life and your teeth.

your mind immediately searches for him, and he answers. "what do you want, you ungrateful shit?"

"what the fuck have you done to me?!" you ask him, your thoughts angry and directed solely at him. you're sure that if he were a real person, he would be dead at this point. you would've murdered him in cold blood, and you wouldn't have fucking cared. you feel your body shaking despite no outside indication that anything is wrong, other than the whole "lacking a proper lower jaw" thing that was just revealed to you.

he's silent for a moment before he responds. "what haven't i done, sir?! you should be fucking thankful that i decided to take your case, and the repulsive bullshit that was stuck inside of your mouth! i fixed you, so pay your goddamn respects! if it weren't for me, you'd still have people ask you why you have extra teeth, why you were a mutant, a horror, nothing more than a repugnant spectacle for the amusement of people who wanted to pick away at the imperfections of circus freaks! you'd be living in the gutter with teeth filling your mouth! i fucking fixed you, so treat me with the dignity i deserve, you ungrateful bastard!" his voice is maniacal and rushed as he attempts to explain himself to you. "don't you understand?! i've made everything better! you'll have a normal mouth for once! you're normal now! you won't be treated like a hideous monstrosity! worship me, you insolent fuck!"

"the only thing you've done is mutilated me and for what?" you ask in retaliation. "this is your body too! you fucked yourself up beyond repair. you almost killed us both!"

"i did what had to be done! don't you get it?! it was a risk that needed to be taken if you wanted to be normal! 3 disgusting blemishes on an otherwise perfectly normal person may have spoiled the entire fucking package! ripping them out was the only option! sure, it was a bit extreme, but goddammit, i fixed you! praise me! bow to me, you insufferable pig!"

"rot in hell," you rebuke, and that's the end of the conversation in your mind, and you return your attention to the nurse. you haven't retained most of what she's explained, but you piece together key parts. you have a new lower jaw now. and a large scar across half of your face, but you'll be fine with that if he will be. and he should, otherwise you'll try to get him removed from your head, or go to therapy, the one thing that he's absolutely been dreading ever since you mentioned it in passing once while he was maintaining co-consciousness.

your new jaw will function similarly to your previous, normal, human one. you won't have a chance to regrow more teeth in your lower jaw, which will hopefully satisfy the menace that's currently heckling you in the back of your brain. you won't be able to eat hard foods anymore, so you'll have to stick with softer foods. you'll have to have a separate surgery to attach your tongue to your new jaw, which removes the possibility of speaking. luckily, they've recommended an app for you to use to communicate with others. after this, you'll have to go for regularly scheduled physical rehabilitation therapy, to help you regain some control of your speech, your tongue, and the jaw. the nerves were all wired correctly, thank goodness, so the jaw should work similarly to the previous one.

the nurse doesn't guarantee that your hyperdontia won't return. due to the randomness of the locations that the teeth decide to grow and poke through, they could appear in your upper jaw still as well, which would run the risk of your demon trying to take control and deal with it himself yet again.

she closes the speech off and says, "i'm so glad that you made it out alright. some people that go through this kind of traumatic blood loss and injury don't get this kind of chance. you're lucky." she pats your hand and walks out, leaving you to the privacy of your now surprisingly empty head.

"alright, where are you?" you ask.

no voice answers.


End file.
